Pining For The Past
by AllMonstersRHuman
Summary: When you can't let go and you can't move on you end up stuck like a broken-down car on the side of a road. Aging but never changing. Watching as the rest of the world passes you by. She longs for someone who went to join the angels beyond the pine-tips. Her life is dedicated to silently watching over another woman's son. All for him. All because she can't stop pining for the past.
1. Peroxide Ghost

**Author's Note: **_This fic fluctuates between the past and present while telling two different storylines. I'll always strive my best to transition in a descriptive way when the OC is taking us into the past. But just for precaution the first paragraph in a 'past' sequence will be in italics. Partly because I use lines to break up scenes sometimes, not just to distinguish the jump between past and present. I'm not putting the past parts entirely in italics because I find txt annoying/sometimes hard to read like that._

* * *

"Ay dude, the freak is lookin' at you again."

Jason's head snaps up, automatically looking for the weathered bleach blonde AJ is referring to.

There she is leaned up against the side paneling of the Dairy Dip. Smoke trailing out of her mouth with her black lenses trained on him. Her shaded stare is unwavering, unashamed and unabashed as she's caught in the act. Only to be broken by a grubby burnout approaching her for a business transaction.

"I..I don't wanna do this. She gives me the creeps. You do it." he grumbles, shoving the money into AJ's hand as they pause at the stoplight.

"Whatsa matter with you? She aint gonna bite yo. Sides. She won't sell ta me, I already tried." he insists, roughly shoving the cash back at the lighter boy.

When Jason refuses to take it he resorts to intimidation, taunting him into doing it.

"Whaterya scared a her 'cause she's eyein' ya? Dude don't be a fuckin' pussy, cougars are hot. I'd fuck 'er."

The deal is done and Jason can feel her eyes on him again. When he looks up sure enough the green-armed glasses are pointed towards him again. AJ's right. She's not that bad looking for a chick over thirty. But then again she doesn't exactly look her age with all that ink. Or the ratty barely there clothes hanging off her slender frame.

"Why the fuck you always gotta do shit like this to me man?" Jason grumbles, pocketing the cash while trying to slow his thundering pulse.

Jason thinks of the first time he could remember seeing the mysterious whiteyellow-haired woman. His earliest memory of her.

Being in line at the Super Saver with Kofie and his mom. She'd been staring at him just the same way from one register line over. He'd only been six and remembered looking up at her in awe, staring straight back into those black squares. Wondering if she was some kind of angel sent down to watch him with her big dirt-caked boots and blinding halo locks. He'd smiled up at her, taking not even a step forward before his mother had yanked him back with a dirty look thrown the woman's way.

And now here he was, about to buy drugs from the lady his mother had warned him never to talk to. The one she told him was wild and dangerous and crazy.

"What you know about her?" he monotonously asked, still sucked into the gripping pull of her stare as they waited for red to turn green.

"Not much… Pops told me ta away from 'er. Ha, fuck that she's got the best chronic in town. Heard some shit here an there though… Guess way back she was some kinda circus freak, roamin' town ta town with a fair. Heard she was mixed up in some bank heists but the pigs could never pin nothin' on 'er.. I also heard she went after the fuckin' doughnut muncher who killed 'er partner an made his life hell. Tried ta say the cop shot 'em fer no reason." AJ rambled, taking drags off his smoke in between each bit of gossip.

He took in the bits and pieces AJ had to offer through a fog as he stayed in link with her. Every time he saw her it was the same. Even though her mouth was always neutral and her eyes were always hidden he felt she was waiting on him. Waiting for him to do something. Waiting for him to make something happen. And every time he couldn't look away once he gave in. Which was why whenever he was in town with his family and a flash of white caught his eye, he kept his gaze on his shoes.

Soon those shoes were carrying him over the stripes of the crosswalk on their own accord. Bringing him closer and closer to something he'd felt for many years was inevitable. As they neared tattoos he'd always been too far away to make out came into focus more and more, gaining detail as his feet gained ground. There were so many he couldn't choose which one to look at. The dagger on her cheekbone eventually won out of all the others once he was close enough. And before he knew it AJ was elbowing him to knock him out of his trance. He realized he was just standing there staring at her, finally close enough to smell the piney scent coming off her mixed with motor oil and marijuana.

"I..ah….we…." he stammered, botching the first words he'd ever said to her.

He'd imagined it a million different ways. What he'd say to her the first time he confronted the blonde ghost who'd haunted him for as long as he could remember. And it definitely didn't involve making himself sound like a stuttering chicken shit. But unfortunately his mouth was hanging open.

She pushed her shades up onto her head and her deep green eyes were bared to him for the first time. He'd always pictured them as blue for some reason. Another shove from behind made him try again as his crystal orbs were held captive by her emerald ones. Her dark sharply angled brows rose at him in expectation. And he could swear she had excitement streaking through her eyes though her expression remained unchanged.

"A..a-an eighth…please." he finally managed, tacking on the polite gesture at the end out of respect he suddenly felt he owed the stranger.

She didn't move or say a word but the vibe of elation coming off her died with his words. Her disappointed eyes swept over him a time or two before a sad slow lop-sided smile spread over her face. Making subtle laugh and age lines become more prominent on her tan skin. She shoved her half dead cigarette in her mouth. Letting it dangle in between her lips as she reached back into the messenger bag saddled on the side of her motorcycle.

The hand that extended toward him with a baggie concealed behind tattooed fingers read "handsome" with two letters on each knuckle. He reached out, engaging her in the traditional handshake used amongst dealers and customers. Her other hand clasped the back of his, encasing his limb in both of hers as he read her other hand's message. "Luke". She gave him a light squeeze as he took his product and transferred the money to her palm.

Her touch felt familiar and light. Like something he'd known all his life. As he reluctantly pulled away she gripped his wrist last second, slipping the money into his overflowing hand.

"It's on the house kid, jus don tell your friend." she murmured with another smile, letting him go with an air of finality as her skin left his and her shades were slid back into place.

Her voice was higher than he'd imagined it, soft and feminine but harsh at the same time. Like she'd just smoked a pack of cigarettes and washed them down with honeyed whiskey. A little hoarse and a little whispery all at once.

Jason pocketed the paraphernalia, hesitating as he took half a step backwards. He'd spent so much time wondering who she was, now he could ask her. But all the questions he had were frozen in his throat. He just stood there. Staring at her while she flung her cigarette aside and readied to mount her bike. Leaving her post like he was the one thing she'd been waiting on all day.

"Sweet ride. Who's Handsome Luke and The Heartbreakers? Some kinda faggot boy-band?" AJ snorted with a laugh, moving to look at the detailing as her combat booted foot perched on the kick-start pedal.

"He's ma guardian angel. The rest aint important." she informed them with a sad smile before bringing the bike to a roaring start, speaking to the wide blue eyed boy rather than the one who'd asked before rolling away.

Jason watched her go, rooted to the spot. Not responding to the geeked-up jackass beside him until she was well out of sight and the dull echo of her motor in the distance faded from his ears.

* * *

Robin's grayed head perked up from the engine he'd been working on when he heard an angry one tearing up the drive. She was cutting it so close he flinched as her front tire stopped a foot short of the workbench. When the rumble cut he could hear her taking in deep gasping breaths. Even over the chorus of barking dogs. As if the wet trails leaking from the bottom of her sunglasses didn't already clue him in on her emotional distress. He got up cautiously, not sure if he needed to comfort or restrain her. Coming closer as an actual sob broke from her lips.

"Wuts-" he began, trying to figure out what was going on.

"_He_ talked ta me taday." she blurted out, her face cracking into a bipolar smile as she continued to cry, letting out a laugh in between pulls for air. "He don sound nothin' like 'em but goddamn he got his daddy's eyes."

Robin sighed a breath of relief, happy to know a meltdown wasn't in the imminent future. He slapped her on the back in a fond gesture a time or two before leaving his hand there to rub back and forth. A grimace colored his aged face when he looked down to see grease stains left behind on her shirt. He'd hear an earful for that later.

He stepped back as she dismounted, giving her a small reassuring smile while she gave one much the same back to him.

"Want me to getcha a beer?" he asked softly, knowing an event of that magnitude had probably taken a lot out of her in terms of restraint.

"Nah I'll get one maself after I get offa the phone." she declined over her shoulder as she headed for the workshop phone with a hurried purposeful step.

She stabbed at the numbers as anger replaced her bittersweet happiness. There was a brief tussle with the knotted cord on her end before the call was answered.

"Hey, be a sweetheart and tell yer mom she's gotta phone call." she requested with a soft tone, giving an answer when the mocha-skinned girl on the other end asked whom she should say was calling. "Tell 'er it's Angel."

She dug in the pocket of her jeans while she waited and listened to the Hispanic music playing somewhere in the background. Producing her half crushed pack of smokes as a crash was heard and a Spanish profanity was yelled. Thunderous angry footsteps grew louder as her desired person approached the phone and she lit her cigarette.

"What do you think you're doing? Huh? Calling the house like this, giving my daughter your name!" came a pissed off feminine voice over the line that made guilt flash across her tattooed face.

"I know, I know. 'M sorry but it's important. I seen 'em in town taday. He was with the Cross kid." she quickly got out, hoping to get her point across before she got hung up on.

"So what? It's none of your concern who _my_ son hangs out with! You need to get over the past and move on." Romina snapped into the receiver, looking around nervously to make sure she wasn't being overheard.

The peroxide-blonde winced at the mention of her inability to let go.

"Rom please, this aint about that. The kid is bad news, besides what could come out if his dad decides to grow a conscience. Jason don need to be hangin' round 'em. He's a bad influence." she reasoned, shoving her shades up to wipe away a fresh tear.

"Yeah, you know all about bad influences don't you, _Angelface_." the Latino woman sneered, guilt and satisfaction rolling through her in harmony as the quiet sniffle of snot being sucked back up was heard from the other end.

Angel's eyes squeezed shut as the nickname sent a deep aching bolt of sorrow through her.

"Why you gotta be like that? I jus want what's best for the kid." she choked out, trying desperately to keep her voice from breaking.

"If you really want what's best for him you'd leave like you should have after Luke _died_." came the cold reply, like an ice pick stabbing her right in the heart. "You will never be a part of _my_ son's life and it is none of your business who he spends his time with."

Robin jumped when a wrench was thrown against the cinderblock wall of the garage. He could see her face turning a violent shade of red from his place behind the workbench. The way her hand shook as it kept the handset held up to her head.

"Don fuckin' say that, don say it like he _jus_ died. He was murdered an you fuckin' know it!" she roared, getting her last sentence in with a growl. "You do somethin' about that Cross punk 'er I will."

When a dead line was the reply she got she slammed the phone into its receiver. She stood there staring at the abused communication device, zoning out so long the cherry to her cigarette went dead. Tears silently running down her face while horrible final memories flashed through her mind.

Robin's curse at dropping a cylinder on his foot snapped her out of it, bringing her back into the miserable present. In between hopping on one foot and swearing up a storm he watched her trudge over to the fridge. An ancient junker from the fifties that had faded yellow paint and was mostly covered by black greasy fingerprints. She looked defeated, her boots barely picking up off the ground as she shuffled across the garage. When she opened the creaking door and just stood there staring at the brown-glassed bottles he made a suggestion.

"Jack's in the freezer."

Her head nodded slowly and she procured the square bottle from the icebox, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig straight from the source.

"Got some coke in the house you can chase it with if ya want." he called out to her retreating back, only getting a shooing hand thrown over her shoulder as she ambled toward her trailer.

She stopped at the door. Realizing that going inside wasn't such a good idea at the moment. Mostly on account of the photos and news clippings lining her limited wall space. Instead she threw herself down onto a broken couch not far from her trailer steps. One of the few pieces of ragged furniture arranged in a circle around a fire pit. She took another pull from the bottle and resurrected her smoke with a flick of her lighter.

As she laid her head back and watched clouds dance beyond the pines she let herself go back to a happier time. The only place she could see him alive again. In her memories of the past.

The adrenaline-filled screams of riders being flung into the air by machinery. The smell of sweet cotton candy and vomit mixing together. The flash of bright colored lights beckoning more customers to come spend their hard earned money.

All she had to do was imagine it and she was right back there again in her simple country dress. Virgin skin untouched, yet to be broken by a needle and filled with black everlasting beauty. Hair as dark as the day she'd been born.

* * *

_The place she'd grown up in was a tiny town in Midwest America. Just a speck in a state full of rolling crop fields. Inconsequential, unimportant, and painfully boring to boot._

That's why when flyers for a summer carnival had been put up in the town square for the first time, the residents were all but ecstatic. It wasn't just a fair with rides and games either. Some posters depicted circus acts and freak shows. But one paper advertisement had especially caught her eye.

It was a simple black and white printout advertising a trio of daredevil motorcyclists. But the unfocused image of the group's frontman is what'd captivated her. The cocky lopsided grin, the tattoos, the way he just screamed "bad idea" with every aspect of his being right down to his ripped rock &amp; roll shirt.

She stood there with her jaw hanging open and her heart threatening to pound right out of her ribs, completely enthralled by the flyer. Until she overheard her father saying his goodbyes to the hardware cashier. She resented him for running out of fishing stories and forcing her away from the poster. If he caught her looking at something like that she'd get the belt. Or the bible. Depending on his mood.

But as good 'ol Mr. Mcdougal enticed her father back with a set of free fishing lures as a gift between pals, she suddenly got a devious urge. Without a second thought for the person who'd painstakingly printed and put it up she grabbed the corners of the advertisement, carefully peeling it off the wood paneling of the hardware store. Her heart was pounding double time as she hurriedly peeled the tape from its backing and folded the forbidden find. She'd turned her back towards the door and was shoving the contraband into her bra with panic racing through her veins as her father exited the store.

"Angelina I done told ya ta stay in the truck!" he reprimanded in a stern tone, though she wasn't five feet from the truck's front bumper.

She jumped and spun around, hoping his all-seeing eyes couldn't see the square firmly squeezed between her breast and the meager padding of her undergarment. Her mossy eyes cast downward and she clasped her hands in front of her, trying to look as remorseful and innocent as possible.

"Forgive me daddy, I jus wanted ta stretch ma legs an get some fresh air." she lied, taking extra precaution to go around the opposite side of the truck to reach her door, sure he wouldn't dare strike her in public but not willing to risk it.

He gave her a scathing glare and moved on to deposit his purchases into the truck's bed, making her dread what was to come. Her father climbed in, turning the key and turning down the music before addressing her.

"Ya want fresh air, ya crack the window. Ya wanna stretch yer legs, too damn bad. None a them pecker-head boys need ta be seein' ya stretchen' them legs." he scolded her, pointing an intimidating finger in her face as he did so. "You best not disobey me again, else there aint gonna be no more trips inta town for ya."

"Yes daddy." she meekly agreed, hanging her head as expected for a shamed young lady.

But on the inside she was smiling. She'd gotten what she wanted. And it seemed her father was in a good enough mood that she wouldn't even have to pay with any pain to get it.

In the weeks leading up to the fair she was on her best behavior. She did all her chores plus a little more. She sat up straighter and was more attentive at church. She didn't speak up when she disagreed with something. She tried to be perfect in every way. And her father noticed. He also had a pretty good idea why.

Though she was putting on her best face in the light of day, at night she indulged herself. When she was sure her father was passed out drunk she'd slip the poster from underneath her mattress. Staring at his face until she could scarcely keep her eyes open. Imagining what his voice sounded like. What color his eyes were and if they sparkled with mischief. How his riding-gloved hand might feel on her skin. The wanton worm of desire was wriggling its way into her heart and she didn't even care.

As the date she'd been anticipating approached she dreaded asking for permission. Angelina knew it'd take nothing short of a miracle for her father to say yes. Which was why that morning she'd cooked all his favorite breakfast foods, right down the grits he fancied on his toast. They ate in silence and the anxiety of it all made her small hand shake a bit each time she raised her fork to her mouth.

"D-daddy I…I've been wantin' ta ask ya somthin'-"

"No, you may not go to the carnival." he flatly cut in, his daughter's hopeful face crumpling into devastation not phasing him as he continued eating.

She sat back in her chair. Fighting back angry tears as she tried to form an argument. She should have known that'd be the outcome. But she'd been so excited and hopeful she'd somehow convinced herself that he'd have mercy on her just this once.

"I never ask for new clothes, or games, or books. You won't let me wear makeup like the other fifteen year old girls. I'm not allowed to wear dresses above the knee. Or pants. I'm not allowed to listen ta anythin' besides gospel music. I'm not allowed ta watch tv less it's one a yer sports games. I'm not allowed ta talk ta boys. And because a the way you want me ta be alla the girls at school make fun a me. I don have any friends. I'm not allowed ta go inta town alone. Heck I aint even allowed ta leave the end a the driveway alone!" she ranted, watching as her father's face became increasingly enraged at her complaints.

"But I understand. The world is a horrible sinful dirty place. And I know yer jus tryin' to protect me daddy. Thank you." she added, relieved to see her father give a nod in return once he realized where she'd been going with her fit.

"Which is why I was gonna ask if ya'd take me ta the carnival. If ya go with me ya can see ta it first hand that I don get inta any trouble. And it's been so long since we did somethin' together sides watchin' fooball. We haven't done nothin' fun since mama…" she trailed off, her eyes dropping down to her napkin as renewed grief swept through her.

When she heard his fork scraping against the plate she pulled herself together and continued pleading her case.

"I jus wanna go watch a couple shows, maybe play a game er two. The rides on the posters look too dangerous." she reasoned, adding in that last part to please her father with false meekness.

"An you wouldn' haveta pay for nothin'. I been saving up the money Father Matthews pays me for cleanin' the church. Please daddy, this can be ma birthday and Christmas present!" she begged, widening her eyes and trying to persuade him with a bit of a pout.

She watched him lean back in his chair, studying her young face for deceptions. Rubbing a knuckle along his chin hairs as he thought about it. She'd never prayed harder in her life than in that short moment.

"We'll go on Sunday evenin'." he gruffly muttered, brushing her off when she jumped up to hug him and thank him graciously.

She cleared their dishes with a choir song humming in her throat. As she collected her father's plate the uplifted tilt of his cheek hidden behind his morning paper hinted at the first smile he'd let out in years. She almost felt guilty. Almost.

* * *

Her limbs flailed out naturally at being shaken awake, her right boot making contact with something before she heard a pained groan and the sound of someone dropping to the ground. Angel opened her eyes to find she'd fallen asleep sometime during her reminiscing. The chilled night air had her wide awake now but she found herself a bit fuzzy from the whisky's lullaby.

"What tha fuck Rob." she grumbled when her blurry eyes focused and Robin's flashlight illuminated him on the ground clutching his crotch.

"Was listenin' to the police scanner, heard 'em.." he paused, trying to breathe and talk through the pain as he sat up. "Heard 'em call in yer boy's name. He got caught with your shit on him. Thought you'd wanna know."

She let out a deep sigh, wincing as she got up, her weary bones cracking here and there. Knowing she'd failed the man up above she'd made a silent promise to a long time ago. She was supposed to look out for Luke's genetic legacy and protect the kid. Not get him arrested.

"Fuck."

Robin ambled after her the best he could with a limp, seeing disastrous outcomes in his imagination.

"Just what do you think you're gonna do?" he called out as her leg swung over the seat of her bike. "Storm in there guns blazin' to break the kid outta jail?"

"Raise some hell, break some balls, whatever I gotta do." she yelled back, racing off toward town before he could hobble over there and try talking some sense into her.


	2. Angelface

"Cummon don't be a loser there's gonna be some fly bitches there. You know what 'm sayin'?" AJ prodded, trying to goad his friend into attending the bonfire he'd organized. "I mean what else you got ta do B? Sit in your room alone fuckin' drawin' and shit?"

Jason shrugged, barely listening while they walked. His mind had ridden off with a bizarre woman on two wheels. Another shove to his shoulder got the overbearing kid to his right an answer.

"Yeah, I'll go." he murmured, only half paying attention as AJ rambled on about the party.

While he wasn't much of a friend Jason acknowledged the few upsides to their friendship. AJ was always pushing him. Pushing him to do things. Sometimes good. Sometimes bad. But always things outside his introverted comfort zone. And while it wasn't always a positive thing, he knew he needed it sometimes.

The party wasn't anything like AJ had hyped it up to be. A small group of kids from school getting wasted around a modest campfire. Someone had brought a battery operated I-dock and a bass-filled rap song was playing from someone's inevitably soon to be stolen phone. Drunk girls were grinding and undulating to the beat. Guys were trying to get in their pants or occupying themselves with rowdy loud conversations. It was a typical slightly disappointing high school party.

Jason was seated on a log staring at the fire through the dancing legs circling it. Gazing off into the flickering flames, lost in his mind as usual. Thinking of what'd transpired at his family dinner earlier that evening as he took another sip from his red solo cup.

"_I don't understand why you won't talk about him. He's my dad, I deserve to know who he was!" he'd yelled, his patients with his mother wearing thin as she dodged his questions again._

"Kofi is your dad. He's been here since before the day you were born. That's all you need to know." she'd replied coldly though hurt and sadness were showing through her anger.

"How about his first name? His favorite color? Favorite food? Or his favorite movie? Can you at least give me that, his favorite fucking movie?" he'd demanded through clenched teeth, glaring at her with unbridled hatred and resentment.

She kept her eyes downcast and her shameful answer contained until her son slammed his hands down onto the table.

"I don't know." she admitted while her composure fell into a pained expression.

"What about that lady? The one who's always looking at me. Don't pretend like you don't know who I'm talking about. Tell me the truth!"

The way her eyes widened with panic told him the woman had something to do with this. The mystery of his biological father.

"Huh? Who is she? Was she his sister? Is she my aunt?" he pushed, each one of his questions becoming louder as he ranted. "Is she my real mom? Huh? Is that it? Because right about now I don't know what else could be a lie for my own good!"

"Fucking car accident my ass." he muttered in a lower tone, shoving his plate away from him.

Romina stared at her son with wide tear-glassed eyes. The temper he'd inherited from his father was shining through. The undeniable reminder that no matter now hard she tired to shape him he'd still have half that man inside him.

"I am your mother and you need to listen to me. Stay away from her." she whispered in a gravely serious tone, the salty liquid overflowing when he stood from the table at her answerless reply.

"Jason you stay away from her!" she'd screamed after him, resting her head in her hands as she'd began to openly sob at the dinner table.

Another drunken partygoer knocked into him, knocking him out of his musings. All of a sudden there were shouts for people to get down on the ground. Many fleeing into the woods, some too drunk to do so. He knew better. The uniformed officers were too close for him to get away on foot. He knew the drill from being caught shoplifting once before. Hands behind your head. Make your body limp so they can do what they want with you and there's no chance for a tacked on resisting arrest charge.

As he felt the cold cuffs being wrapped around his wrists too tight he saw AJ being herded out of the woods with his hands restrained behind his back.

He mentally noted that AJ looked like he was about to cry. And the irony of the sight made Jason smile into the dirt where his face was being pushed.

* * *

Angel's bike skidded to a stop outside the Schenectady police station, the smell of burnt rubber following her in through the doors as she brazenly left her vehicle parked on the sidewalk. They all knew her by name, clerks and officers calling out to her. Some with crude jokes, some with sincere hellos. Others shaking their heads with disdain as she bypassed the front desk and made her way through the station like she was chief of police. She headed straight towards the interrogation rooms with a determined angry stride. When a rookie idiotically tried to apprehend her while she gazed down at the cam monitors, she smirked over her shoulder as a senior officer pulled the newbie away.

"Sir civilians can't be back here." she heard the fresh cadet argue as her eyes landed on the room containing the boy she sought.

"She's an untouchable. Just keep your nose down and stay out of her way." she heard the seasoned cop advise as her eyes flickered over to the next room.

The room that held Jason's Brooks Brothers suited ticket to freedom. And a father physically harming his son.

She lost it a little when she saw that. Her boots slamming against the tiled floor as she ran to room three. If not for the whiskey in her system and the child abuse she'd just witnessed, she would have gone about it a little quieter with a bit more diplomatic finesse. But then again subtlety and good manners weren't her forte.

AJ couldn't understand why his father was so adamant that he leave Jason alone. He was terrified. His dad had never even spanked him as a child, let alone put his hands on him in a threatening way before. A tear rolled down his cheek and over the fingers squeezing his face as the interrogation room's door burst open and slammed shut just as fast.

The woman Jason had bought from earlier that day was hauling his dad off him. Bulldozing him away into a corner as she growled at him.

"What're ya doing puttin' yer hands on him like that!" she bellowed, enjoying the way Avery went white as a sheet at the sight of her. "You know who woulda never dared lay hands on his son like that?" she asked him rhetorically, watching as fear and shame colored his blue eyes.

The rest of their conversation AJ couldn't hear thanks to the hushed tones they used. Hers harsh and angry in tenor and his soft and pleading. All he knew was that his dad was definitely being made into a little bitch by the dirty woman. Even more-so when one of her tattooed hand lunged forward and grabbed his genitals in a crushing grip.

"Long time no see Avery. Ya miss me?" she cooed quietly in a mocking way, knowing full well he was not happy to see the one person who could ultimately ruin his campaign.

He looked away, pressing himself further into the corner as she invaded his personal space and quietly dictated what she desired.

"I'm takin' Jason outta here and yer gonna make sure this never touches his record jus like you're gonna do fer yer boy. You understand?" she ordered in a whisper, watching as the coward nodded.

"And I want ma shit back, every fucking nug your gorillas seized from him." she added, her face hardening when he gave her a look of disbelief.

"I can't do tha-" he began, the sentence dying in his throat as a strong hand grabbed him where it counts.

"Bullshit. You can and ya will. Or else I go ta your opponent's PR team and tell 'em what I saw up in that bedroom sixteen years ago." she quietly threatened, making his eyes bulge with her words and her tightening grip. "You mighta bought ma tongue with the immunity ya ordered on me when it comes to your pack a pigs. But I never said I'd never talk ta campaign managers."

The whiskey on her breath both made him think she was bluffing and that she'd do it without hesitation. Either way he was up shit's creek without a paddle and he was beyond pissed at Avery Jr. for bringing this all down on him.

"You're joking right? You'd ruin my life and your setup over a few grams?" he scowled softly, his disbelieving face reddening as he felt himself begin to harden in her painful grasp.

"Unlike you I aint got nothin' to lose I really care about. You know yer crooked puppets'll be smoking it this weekend after it magically disa-fuckin'-ppears from the evidence room. I don give out freebies. If they want ma shit they can come to me like they already do." she reasoned, watching as he nodded in agreement and looked pointedly down at his crotch.

With one last threatening look she released him, stepping away with a with a snarl of disgust painted on her face. His eyes held apologies he'd already tried voicing years ago before he looked away and left the room to get what she wanted.

Now alone with the fierce woman who'd just cowed his father AJ looked up at the security camera fearfully. Flinching when she started towards him.

The recoil the little poser let out made her stop. Leaving the table between them as a bit of guilt washed over her. He didn't deserve the same treatment his father did. He was just a shithead kid.

"You and Jason aint friends no more. Got it?" she asked firmly and simply, confusing the hell out of him but getting a vigorous timid nod out of him anyway.

She exited the room with a long exhale, leaning back against the closed door as she waited for Avery to return. Once she had a evidence baggie tucked away in her back pocket she nodded to him, holding his eyes with an accusative gaze that was meant to haunt him. The same one she'd given him for years. Before turning away to the next room and letting him bury his guilt down deep.

Jason jumped a little when the door opened. He'd expected an overweight middle aged man in uniform when he turned around. The middle aged part was right. But all the rest, well…

She was leaning up against the door frame, looking him over while swaying a bit. Repositioning her shoulder on the frame when she lost her balance a little. A hiccup mixed with an unladylike burp sounded out before she beckoned him towards the door with a wave of her hand.

"Come on kid, I got ya sprung. Lets go." she barked, a crooked smirk gracing her features at his shocked open-mouthed expression.

Despite all the parental warnings he'd received over the years about her, he didn't hesitate for a second to jump out of his seat and follow her. She let out a short booming laugh that made him jump when she looked over her shoulder and found him looking around suspiciously. Like he didn't believe he was really allowed to leave and would be tackled to the ground any second.

"Quit lookin' so guilty." she laughed, pulling back in her stride to walk beside him and throw an arm over his shoulders, leading him through the station.

Once outside in the fresh night air Jason looked around, mentally calculating how many miles it was to his house. Quickly deciding against calling him mom, too tired to make up an elaborate story of how he got there and still too mad to talk to her.

"You wanna ride home?" she offered after watching his eyes scan the street and his face plainly spell out what he was thinking.

He hesitated this time. But only for a few seconds before he nodded and indulged in looking at her up close again. The dingy cutoff Nirvana shirt she'd been wearing earlier was dirty. Well, dirtier. What was once white was now grey from years of stains. A few faded rusty brown tinted patches stood out with the words and smilie-face on her chest.

When he realized she was leaning over to walk the bike rather than get on it he followed, catching up and giving her a silent questioning look. One that made her give a soft chuckle and a sadness come to her crow-footed eyes.

"I gotta sober up a little before I ride ya home kid." she explained with a tilt of her head towards the diner a few shops away.

Her reasoning brought a smile to his face that lasted till they were seated in a booth away from windows. Till his eyes were captivated by the artwork in front of him. Jason's current fixation was a tattoo that spanned the length of her shoulder blades where he couldn't see, over her shoulders and around down to her collar bones. Angel wings. The longest feathers on each side sweeping down to accent her delicate clavicles. Each frayed feather holding one word.

"Angel face?" he questioned in a murmur as he read them aloud, watching as her head shot up from the menu and her eyes watered a bit before her gaze left him and zeroed in on a picture of a corndog.

* * *

_She was hard pressed to keep up with her father as he made his way through the crowd. She wanted a moment to take in all the new things around her. But she knew better than to lag behind. One offense and she could kiss this rare treat goodbye. _

Angelina wasn't even upset to see her father's destination had been the beer tent. She was just thankful for the chance to stay in one spot while he drank with his friends. While she dutifully stayed beside her father, her rebellious eyes wandered. Hungrily devouring each sight. Every flash of light. All the happy smiles of children running past. All the glamorous wonders of a traveling carnival.

"Hey sweetheart come over here and play with my balls, only two dollars!" came a call from across the way, making her eyes widen at the brazen innuendo.

A good looking carnie in an orange shirt was eyeing her, calling her forward with a crook of his finger and a devilish smile. Calling her towards the bottle breaking game he worked. She made her father proud as she turned around, giving the handsome ruffian the cold shoulder and nothing more while maintaining her purity. An act that gained her a gentle pat on the back and an approving nod from the man next to her.

She was satisfied with standing by while her father had a good time until the tent one over from the one they were loitering in front of announced a death defying motor show. _The_ show she'd worked tirelessly for weeks to be allowed to view. She lightly tugged on the flannel shirt sleeve beside her, happy to see her father's eyes turn on her with an intoxicated unfocused gaze and a good-humored hint of a smile on his face.

"Daddy I'd liketa see tha motorcycle show." she pleaded, watching as his eyes flickered to the tent a ways away and then back to his group of drinking buddies.

His impaired judgment afforded her an unheard of breath of freedom.

"You cummon right back here when it's over, ya hear?" he slightly slurred, his bloodshot eyes crinkling at the corners as his daughter smiled up at him and he in turn gave her a forced one.

"Yes sir." she agreed, taking a few steps away before turning on her heel and coming back to give her father a kiss on his whiskered cheek. "Thank you daddy."

She was practically vibrating with excitement when the announcer boasted of Handsome Luke's immanent arrival. As she took her disposable camera from the plain white purse on her shoulder she was relieved the entrance to the show was located around the corner. Out of her father's line of sight. The guy accepting money at the flapped entrance gave her a knowing look, her being far from the first lovestruck girl to wait outside for the show's star.

Angelina picked him out of the crowd from a ways away, his shock of bright peroxide hair making it easy to follow his bobbing walk through the patrons. He looked just the same as he did on the poster safely tucked away in her bag. But even more vivid in living color as he came closer. She managed to take one picture and spin the little plastic wheel in preparation for the next by the time she remembered to take a picture at all. After which she realized she'd been staring at him with an agape slightly smiling mouth like she didn't have a brain in her head. If she did have one it turned to mush when he gave her a wink and a smile as he passed and entered the tent, his dagger tattoo moving with his cheek as he gave her the flirty gesture.

"You comin' er stayin'?" the money holder gruffly asked, breaking her out of her daze and making her scramble to contribute her five dollars.

Being the last one in didn't matter to her. She didn't even bother with finding a seat, too in awe to function past stepping in far enough so the doorman could close the striped flaps behind her.

A kind of music she'd never heard before was blaring through speakers on stilts as he mounted his bike, pumping his fists into the air to make the crowd cheer. It was angry and harsh with wailing guitars and growled out lyrics, a far cry from the soft hymns of church music she was used to. It scared and excited her all at once just like the mysterious daredevil idling his bike into the sphere of fear.

He entered alone at first, revving his engine to add dramatic effect as the announcer's voice boomed over the music, describing the "death defying" feat he was about to perform. She forgot to breathe. Her air was taken away with him as he made his first loop around the cage. Engines were roaring full speed when two more performers joined him. The spectators were cheering. Music was blaring. But it was all a dull background to her now. She was just focused on following him with her eyes until all three motorcyclists were a blur.

It was all over before she knew it. People were clapping, some already rising out of their seats to beat the crowd out of the tent. She didn't applaud. She couldn't move. Even her wide cheek-aching smile was frozen. Which was way the doorman gave her a shake and stole her gaze away from man holding his helmet up in victory.

"Move et kid!" he barked, adding in a bright side afterwards to pad shooing her away. "He gives autographs out front after everyone clears out."

Angelina jerked out of it with a start, glancing over at him with a nod before she squeezed out with the stream of people exiting the tent. Nervous anxiety made her worry the strap of her purse while she watched more file out from the place away from the exit where she chose to wait. A nagging voice in the back of her mind told her she should be getting back to her father that instant. And it disturbed her how much that voice sounded like him. Sacred her really, that it came out so quickly and so strongly demanding that she run back to her daddy.

Her conscience was silenced when the daredevil came out. Not even a second after he ducked his head to light his cigarette a group of excited children surrounded him. While they clamored for his mark on the pieces of paper in their outstretched hands her heart pounded harder with each passing scribble of his pen. Skipping a beat when he caught her in his peripheral vision and tuned his head to glance at her, throwing a smile her way.

The faint worry about how much longer she was taking to get back to her father vanished as he kept turning to look at her. Even more so when he eventually threw a finger up her way, telling her he'd be over in a minute. As much as it hindered her she admired the way he took his time with each little fan. He didn't even rush the lone father that stepped forward with a notepad, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back before he started walking towards her.

She could feel her face burning as she watched him saunter over with a thumb hooked into his belt and a cigarette hanging from his lips. She looked away shyly once he was right in front of her and she realized she was staring.

"D'you enjoy the show?" he asked with that crooked smile, making her eyes widen with shocked awe.

His voice held an accent she couldn't place. Maybe something with a New York tinge to it. She could easily imagine him entertaining audiences at the great state fair just off the boardwalk.

She nodded timidly. Glancing up once to smile at him while she did so. They stood there a moment in awkward silence. Her looking down at their shoes, him cracking a larger smile while he observed how shy she was. She kept sneaking glances up at him like he was the sun. Something she wasn't supposed to look at. Judging by her mannerisms and the way she was dressed he suspected he was indeed something she was not supposed to indulge in.

All types of girls warmed the bed in his trailer town to town. Usually the kind who already had tattoos and had been around the block a couple times. Sometimes a country homecoming queen who was looking for a way to get back at her daddy. But his favorite kind were the pure as the driven snow ones just like the little treat standing in front of him. They were so wet behind the ears he could romance them and split before their novice hearts knew better to start breaking.

" 'M Luke by the way." he told her with a confident jerk of his chin, extending his inked hand for her to shake.

"Angelina." she squeaked out, looking from his baby blues to his hand and then back down to the ground without touching him.

"You wanna go somewhere? Get somethin' to eat?" he suggested, stuffing his lonely hand back in his pocket as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke.

She shook her head again, fishing through her bag until she found the worn out poster.

"Jus a autograph." she murmured quietly while glancing around nervously, unfolding it before handing it over to him.

Luke's brows rose. He mentally noted that she must have looked at it often for it to be so creased and weathered. Girls like her were always looking for an excuse to break free but never took it without a push. He'd be damned if he wasn't going to give it to her.

"This aint no good." he scowled down at the poster, crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it over his shoulder. "We got brand new ones in full color up at the office, common." he explained at her disheartened expression, taking hold of her hand and pulling her along into the fairgrounds.

She felt like she was going to pass out. She'd never been touched by a boy before. And now there she was hand in hand with one running amuck at a carnival. Angelina resisted against him as they neared the tent's edge, pulling him back by their connected hands to peek around the corner first. Her father had his back turned to them, still talking to his friend with a beer in his hand. Now it was her pulling him along, making him run with her as her head darted in between the man she was trying to sneak away from and looking forward to not crash into people in their path. Once they were a ways away he took the reigns, leading her towards the green trailer that held the general manager's office along with the lost and found.

"Who ya runnin' from?" he questioned when she kept looking over her shoulder.

"Ma daddy's likely ta strike me down fer not commin' right back after tha show once he realizes I aint there ta hold his drink while he pees all over his boots. If he sees me with you he'll be fixin' ta lock me in tha cellar till I'm forty after beatin' me black an blue." she replied in a breathless rush, the most she'd managed to say to him yet.

Her answer made him stop dead in his tracks, turning to look at her with a serious expression, both of them huffing to catch their breath.

"You're kiddin' right, he don't actually put hands on you?" he demanded, squeezing her hand when she looked down with guilty eyes for letting someone know her father's business.

"Sometimes." she admitted, her heart fluttering as his thumb stroked over the back of her hand. "Only when I deserve it though." she offered in her father's defense as her eyes flickered back up to his hard set face.

"You don't deserve nobody hurtin' you no matter what you done." he disagreed, a pain in his eyes hinting that he'd had his own experiences that'd scarred him.

Without another word on the matter he was pulling her along again, waving to those who called out to him while they made their way through the midway. They climbed a set of stairs similar to the ones that led to rides before a glass window with a speaker in it came into view.

"I need one a my mug shots, Gladice." he told a heavy set woman behind the glass with a charming smile thrown in when she rolled her eyes at him and his catch of the night.

Luke watched as the girl next to him sniffed the air, her head turning in the direction of the food carts slicing the fairground in half with their line of fried deliciousness.

"You sure ya don't wanna get somethin'?" he prodded while they waited, making her head snap back around to him before she shook it. "My treat." he offered. "Cotton candy, elephant ear, candied apple, corndog?"

She looked a little less hesitant as he offered up all the fair had to offer. A small guilty smile slowly creeping onto her face.

"I aint never had any a that before." she admitted, watching as his jaw dropped in disbelief and his eyebrows scrunched together in outrage. "I aint never even been to a carnival before."

"Come on. You're tellin' me you never had a corndog before!?" he asked with slight outrage, moving the accept the poster from a slot in the glass when Gladice returned with it.

Her head shook again in that adorably timid way she had about her. She'd been disappointed when he'd released her hand to grasp the steel stair railing. But it'd been short lived as he snatched it again and began leading her towards one of the food stands.

"Just one corndog, you gotta try this." he insisted when she started protesting with her father's anger threatening in the back of her mind.

Luke led her around back and handed her the poster. Leaving her outside next to the discarded grease buckets he hoisted himself up through the narrow rear door of the tiny food trailer. A moment later he came back with a breaded golden cocoon on a stick, holding it out for her to take. He let out a laugh when her face lit up at the first bite.

"You gotta try it with ketchup." he assured her, motioning her to follow around to the front of the concession stand where he squirted a red line onto it for her.

She nodded her head in agreement when he asked if it was better that way. He enjoyed watching her eat it while thinking how ridiculous it was that she'd never had the fried food before. When her eyes kept darting around anxiously and her dog was almost eaten down to the end of the stick he started searching for a way to keep her around a little longer.

"So if you've never been to a carnival before I take it that means ya never went on a ferris wheel before neither?" he assumed, inclining his head towards the mammoth contraption to their left.

"I cant." she declined sadly before throwing her bare stick in the trash. "I gotta go, my daddy-"

"You gotta take a ride, common, I built it with my own two hands." he interjected, distracting her with the daunting task of setup he had to perform in every town.

"I thought ya were a stunt man?" she questioned with her head craned to look up at the wondrous machine he'd constructed.

"I am. But bossman can't afford to have performers slackin' off between shows so I work the wheel. I build 'er up and take 'er down in every town too." he boasted, capturing her by the hand again to coerce her on it. "Common you gotta go for a ride. I did all that work just for you."

His smile was melting her like butter over hot popcorn but the imminent threat of her father was pressing on her.

"I really need ta go…" she trailed off, following along as he pulled her towards the steel ramp that led up to the ride's exit.

Luke paused at the bottom and turned to her. He didn't want to outright drag her on it.

"One ride an I'll give ya that autograph you wanted." he promised with all the charm of a carnival conman set on stealing her heart.

Angelina nodded with a small giggle. A snipped of laughter that had him wanting to earn more of it. Halfway through her corndog Luke had changed his directive from getting her into bed to getting her to have some fun. Thanks in large part to the fearful way she kept looking around like she expected her father to jump out of the crowd and drag her home by her hair any minute.

With a yell out to the operator the ride was stopped and a cab was emptied just for them. She felt like a movie star not having to wait in line like all the other fairgoers.

Angelina stepped into the bucket cautiously with Luke's hand guiding her, his crooked smile coaxing her into the contraption. Once she was seated on the built in plastic seat he joined her only to jump up a second later at her shriek. She hadn't expected the umbrella topped cab to sway back with their combined weight and was gasping for breath as Luke apologized and sat across from her.

"M so useta this thing I forget how much the sway can freak out first timers." he offered in apology as he sat back with his hands supporting his head and his crossed feet stretched out in front of him leisurely.

His relaxed pose helped to calm her, giving her faith that it was safe. When the wheel started turning she grasped the pole in the middle of the bucket as her eyes widened in surprise. Luke chuckled at her while the ride paused to fill the next cab with new riders. His laugh mellowing out into a small grin when she scowled at him.

"How old are you?" he questioned while they waited for another refill and they slowly inched higher into the sky.

"Fifteen." she bit out, getting a bit more used to the stop and go charade by the third time.

Enough so that she could focus on the amused carnie across from her rather than the unfamiliar movement.

"An you?" she requested, really just wanting to hear his voice rather than the machinery lifting them up towards the stars.

"I'll be twenty this Halloween." he answered before scrutinizing her appearance. "Ya sure you're only fifteen? I mean the way you dress makes you look younger but-"

Luke's innocent observation set the normally quiet girl off on a longwinded rant. She'd informed him of all the oppressive details of her life by the time they'd almost reached the top and his jaw was done dropping at what she was telling him. He sat back quietly from the outraged elbow-to-knee position he'd taken up while leaning forward to listen to her. His brow was set in a hard line and his fists were clenched while silent outrage coursed through him.

Angelina felt immense relief by the time she was done. She'd never talked to anyone that long let alone vented to anyone about the injustices ruling her life. It felt like an invisible shackle she'd been wearing for years had been broken by finally telling someone. She felt light and happy, what she'd imagine being drunk felt like. But as she looked over to the blond boy across from her she could see a weight had settled over him, a darkness that had him silently glaring out into the night while he lit a cigarette.

The wheel turned another fraction and she stared in awe at her little town down below as they reached the very top. He watched her smile return and it saddened him to know this would probably be the only time she would experience this kind of freedom.

"Angelina?" he murmured to get her attention, stealing her gaze away from the town's lights. "I want ya to promise me somethin'."

Luke paused to move over to her side of the cab slowly, keeping it from dipping drastically and scaring her.

"I want you to start doin' whatever you want. I want ya to go against him and start livin' your life the way you wanna. You already wasted enough time bein' the kinda person he wanted ya to be and life is too short for that shit." he advised, watching as she averted her eyes at his profanity and she gave a timid shrug that told him she was too scared to do so.

He gently used his dirtied hand to make her look at him, using her chin to guide her eyes back to him.

"You gotta be brave and you gotta make changes else you're gonna be stuck under his thumb the resta your life. That shit's not gonna change on its own. You gotta stand up for yourself, go against em, and be who ya really wanna be. Promise me you will." he demanded, the passion in his voice and the general idea making her eyes widen with heart pounding fear before she looked away again and started thinking about it herself.

It sounded ridiculously simple when he said it. But the reality of what he was asking was much more complicated. She couldn't get into town to buy the kind of clothes she liked. She didn't have the money for cosmetics if she by some miracle was able to go to the drugstore alone. It would be near impossible to keep such things once her father caught sight of her with them on. But regardless of the unrealistic goals he was setting for her. She felt a rebellious smile slowly creeping onto her face and hope blossoming in her heart.

That smile made a small one quirk at the corner of his lips as she leaned over to take his cigarette. She held it wrong like she was smoking a joint, inhaling too deeply when the first sting of smoke scorched her throat. She doubled over coughing out a puff of smoke while he patted her back lightly and cackled at her first drag. Her eyes were watery when she sat up but she was smiling. And after he showed her how to hold the Camel properly she took a second pull, exhaling a cloud into his pleased face.

"Your dad is right about one thing though." he admitted while lighting up a new smoke for himself. "You don't need no makeup, you got a angel-face."

* * *

The waitress asked for their order a second time before Jason reached out to lightly touch one of the worded hands clenched around her menu. Her eyes refocused at the sensation. Her connection with the outside world came surging back as she lowered the laminated options.

"Corndogs." she blurted out before she winced and looked over to the boy across from her. "Ya like corndogs right? Fuck everybody likes corndogs. How hungry 'er ya? D'ya eat dinner earlier?" she rambled, watching as he shook his head.

Jason quickly backtracked, explaining that he did like them but hadn't eaten dinner.

"Six corndogs." she ordered with a small smile at the irony of their meal.

Angel sat back against the booth's cushioning and let her bloodshot eyes roam over him. Finding similarities here and there. The curve of the corner of his mouth. The natural dirty blond shade of his hair. A shade she'd only seen once when his father had happened to be too sick to bleach his roots before they'd started showing. And the eyes. His eyes were what had her fighting the hardest not to cry.

"How are ya doin' in school? You get good grades?…I mean ya do alright, right?" she inquired with hesitant excitement, trying to obtain a little piece of his life without pressuring him with high expectations.

Jason shrugged, his lips lifting a little to hint at a guilty smile. "I do alright."

"You gotta girlfriend yet?" she blatantly asked, making him blush a little and awkwardly shift in his seat.

"Nah, girls don't like me much." he admitted with another shrug.

"They will one day, trust me, ya got stud in your blood kid." she joked, quickly moving onto her next question as she realized how close her statement was to divulging too much. "I like yer jacket, it's rad. Ya decorate it yourself?"

Jason gave a bashful nod at her compliment. But on the inside he was trying to figure out her deal. She was talking to him like an old friend she'd known for years. Or a distant relative who wanted to catch up on his life a little too desperately. The way she looked at him gave him odd fluttering feelings in his stomach he wasn't supposed to have for someone her age. And she looked at him like she was cherishing every second with him. The whole encounter was a clusterfuck of emotions and unsaid things but to everyone else in the diner they just looked like a couple of lowlifes kicking it.

The waitress came with their plates and left with their late drink orders before Angel continued her friendly interrogation.

"Here, you gotta have ketchup." she insisted, going as far as slapping a glob out of the glass bottle onto his plate for him when he nodded in consent.

"So you got any other friends besides that dude ya got picked up with tanight?" she questioned through a mouthful of corndog in a very unladylike manner.

His third shrug of the night clued her in on a personality trait that was all his own. His dad was never that quiet.

"Not really."

Her chewing mouth dipped down into a frown at his answer but she waited until she swallowed to make her next statement.

"Look I know makin' friends is hard, specially in high school. But that guy aint someone to be makin' friends with. He's a fuckin' idiot. I mean have ya heard 'em talk?" she advised with a laugh thrown in at the end, getting a smile out of him even though she was dogging his only friend.

"I don't want you hangin' round him no more. Understand?" she ordered sternly a moment later making Jason pause with his second corndog inches from his mouth.

He sat back a little and put the stick down. Scrutinizing her with a furrowed brow while she looked back at him with raised ones waiting for his obedience.

"Who..are..you?" he murmured, shaking his head a little at her as he asked the bemused question.

The way she glanced away for a second made him feel she caught the underlying meaning in his words.

"You can call me Angel." she answered with false out of place cheer and an offered hand that went unshaken.

Jason shook his head, leaning forward on his forearms. "No, _who _are you."

She looked away with a guilty weight in her pine green eyes. Taking another bite and keeping her face turned to give him her daggered cheek.

"You knew my real dad, didn't you. That's why you've been watching over me all these years." he asserted, his patients thinning as he was ignored for the second time that evening.

"Please tell me about him. Fuck my mom and what she doesn't want me to know. Please just tell me." he begged in a softer tone that made her composure crack.

She faced him with the kind of wavering spasm of a smile that was meant to hold back tears.

"I can't kid-"

"Please." he quietly pleaded sounding near tears himself.

She looked into his watery eyes and a teardrop fell from hers. She couldn't stand to see him so desperate. But she couldn't do it.

"Your dad's last words were _"Don't tell him about me."_." she quoted as she wiped the eyeliner laden droplet from her face and sniffed snot back up into her nose. "He didn't want you ta know who he was because he was ashamed. And I'm not gonna be the one ta go against his dyin' wish. I'm sorry kid."

Jason's eyes widened at the small admission, stunned into silence for a few short seconds. In his mother's household it was like his real father was a ghost. A phantom that wasn't to be spoken of for fear it would call him back. To just have someone refer his dad as a real person who had feelings and final wishes felt validating.

"What about his name? Can you at least give me that?" he pushed, watching as she loudly blew her nose into her napkin while shaking her head. "Just his first name?"

"Stop!"

He jumped a little when she sharply barked out the command. Looking around quickly to the other diners who were now staring at the pair. But wasn't completely cowed as he watched her roughly bite into her next red slathered dog.

"His favorite food?" he tried again, trying to foreign normalcy while his heart raced and her eyes hinted at consideration. "Somethin' stupid like that won't hurt."

Angel looked up at him through his dark lashes while she chewed and thought about it. He was correct that a little detail like that didn't go against his father's wish. But she knew small pieces of information like that would leave him hungry for more. She knew it was a bad decision but she did it anyway because he was looking at her like a starving puppy begging for table scraps.

"Pancakes. No no no, wait that's wrong. He loved ta cook pancakes. He was damn good at it too and it's a good thing 'cause he couldn't cook nothin' else. He'd use things like the skin offa orange to give 'em the best flavor…" she trailed off, looking as though she was going to zone out again until she caught herself.

His crooked Luke-like smile squashed the feeble part of her conscience that told her in the long run these little pieces of information would do him wrong.

"But ah, his favorite food was corndogs." she divulged with a wave of her own. "And ma spaghetti. He always said it was a tie but I know corndogs were his real favorite."

Jason's eyebrows quirked, his eyes glancing down to their plates briefly before returning to her as his smile widened. He realized that even in the smallest silent ways, she was trying to give him a piece of his dad.

"What about his favorite movie?" he quickly questioned, afraid that at any second she would shut the flood gate of information.

"Rebel Without a Cause." she answered as a smile of her own shot across her face. "He had a old vhs tape of it he'd play alla the time."

"What kinda music did he listen to?" he asked through half a full mouth, mentally noting how much better the corndog seemed to taste now.

Angel took a long gulp of water before giving him an answer.

"Rock &amp; roll thrash metal type music. Metallica was his all time favorite band. He mostly listened to stuff like that. But I did manage ta get him into Nirvana after I got a holda one a their early tapes." she told him, moving to tug at the smiley face on her dingy shirt.

"Was that his?" he inquired with a hopeful nod towards her chest.

"Kinda. I mean he got it fer me as a birthday present but he jus so happened ta get it in a size that'd fit him too." she explained with a lighthearted roll of her eyes and a smirk at his father's antics.

He nodded in understanding, moving onto his next question after he sipped at his Pepsi and realized he was staring at the faded rusty brown stains on her shirt.

"His favorite color?"

"He'd said black the first time I'd asked him that. But after I gave 'em shit 'bout black not technically bein' a color he told me green." she recalled as she bit into her final dog, thinking fondly back to their debate over black's legitimacy as a color.

Jason let out a little laugh at her answer, trying to imagine a guy who resembled himself interacting with a younger version of her.

"I asked my mom those same questions earlier tonight and she wouldn't answer me." he admitted to her, his expression clouding over as he dreaded returning home.

Angel nodded in understanding, reaching across to dip into some of the excess ketchup on his plate.

"Well that's 'cause she didn' know things like that 'bout him." she offered up in Romina's defense. "Yer parents were…more like.. acquaintances."

"What do you mean?" he probed, curious as to what kind of relationship they had.

She shook her head and waved her hand to decline while she chewed enough to swallow some and speak.

"That's not fer me to be talkin' 'bout right now. That was her business with 'em, not mine. I shouldn' get inta any a that with you." she declared with an air of finality and a pointed look thrown at him.

"Well then what about you. Were you guys…" he trailed off with an exaggerated lift of his eyebrows, not exactly wanting to assume in case she wan a blood relation of his dad's.

A guilty smile graced her face and slight tint to her cheekbones hinted at her answer before the good-natured expression vanished and a small sad quirk of her mouth replaced it.

"Your dad saved me. He saved me in a lot of ways." she murmured with downcast eyes. "We never put a name to it really. And we weren't exclusive, you know what I mean? I had other guys, he had other girls."

"A _lot_ of other girls." she added with humor in her tone, making Jason laugh. "He was a heartthrob."

The humor chilled and her melancholy bitter sweet aura that was usually present returned as she continued trying to explain.

"But when it came down to it at tha end a the night we always ended up sleepin' in tha same bed. Or backin' each other up in a fight. Er when there was a chance fer us to part ways we always chose ta stick tagether. It was ride er die with us. We were family, that's what we were."


End file.
